


Rainy Musings of a Lethal Blossom

by Rukosband



Category: Naruto
Genre: During their partnership in Akatsuki, Gen, Kisame's determined to break down Itachi's walls, M/M, kisaita if you squint, not much really happens
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2019-07-24
Packaged: 2020-07-12 16:10:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19949080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rukosband/pseuds/Rukosband
Summary: Kisame takes it upon himself to ease (what he assumes to be) Itachi's homesickness. It brings them a little closer.





	Rainy Musings of a Lethal Blossom

The slow rain pitter-pattered against the window, an occasional rumble of thunder signaling the presence of the passing storm. Kisame welcomed rain despite the ache of homesickness that came with it. It didn't rain as often in Kiri as much as it does in Ame and though Water Country saw its fair share of storms, it was the sea and lakes Kisame missed. Even the heavy mist. Hell, it was just plain water Kisame longed for.

But he was sure, despite being so close to Fire, the Land of Tea bordered Water Country and no doubt saw its fair share of nasty weather. But this rain was more of a mainland storm than the unpredictable temper of the ocean squalls, moving in from the west and out to sea. It wasn’t even much of a storm but just so that it was hindering enough for weary travelers like himself to seek shelter.

But, in spite of the country’s differences, it was still water falling from the sky and he wasn't the only one longing for the familiarity.

Itachi sat in the armchair, staring out the water-streaked window, the distorted glow of the streetlights softly illuminating his blank face. Kisame didn't need an expression to read his partner: it was all in the man's body language. 

Usually, when it was just any other day, Itachi stood or sat like a purposefully placed doll. Eyes closed or half-lidded, unmoving, at rest. If he was in a chair, his ankles would be crossed and either slouched with hands in his lap or an arm free of the sleeve and tucked loosely in his cloak while the other was propped up by the elbow, knuckles pressed against his cheek.

On rare days like this, however, he wasn't resting or deep in thought. He was reminiscing. Feet were pulled up onto the chair and tucked beside him (because he was just that small and dainty enough to be able to do so), both arms were out of the sleeves of his Akatsuki cloak and loosely crossed in front of his stomach, and his head rested against the small curved lip along the side of the back of the chair. Raven black hair in the usual low and loose ponytail was draped over a shoulder while his eyes shifted ever so slightly at the town they'd stopped at. Faintly, the shadows of the rain droplets racing down the windowpane were reflected on Itachi's porcelain skin.

Kisame never liked to bother Itachi on days like this. Not since he learned that the man, ten years his junior, actually still cared for his village and people. Itachi denied it of course and Kisame detested dishonesty with a passion but it was a lie he was willing to let pass. Any lingering feelings for his home would label him a traitor to Akatsuki. And that meant death. 

He didn't know as to why Itachi had done what he had or why he defected and joined Akatsuki, but that last visit to Konohagakure had solidified his suspicions. Their 'failed' acquiring of the Nine Tails Jinchuuriki may have actually ended a failure had they persevered but Kisame knew Itachi could have killed everyone where they stood with just the blink of his eyes. It would have dangerously drained him of chakra, maybe even to the point of killing him, but they wouldn't have that failure lingering over their heads.

No, Itachi had chosen to spare them all. Perhaps for the reasons he said, but there were other reasons that he kept to himself. And besides, Kisame rather liked the way they worked together, even if he didn't always agree. So confronting Itachi, even as a joke, was never on his agenda.

They hadn’t been in the hotel room for more than five minutes before Itachi had situated himself on the armchair. It hadn’t originally been facing the window, instead turned towards the small table and the rest of the room, but in the split moment that Kisame had his back turned, the chair was now occupied and moved. Itachi had done so, so silently and effortlessly, it was like he had been there before they arrived. And as he eyed the man now while he placed Samehada gingerly against the wall, a realization that he had some time ago surfaced again.

Never before had Kisame come across someone so beautiful and he didn’t mean the term in regards to physical looks. Itachi Uchiha wasn’t overly masculine nor feminine - he possessed the qualities of both in a face that hadn’t aged much since their first meeting. Even when his partner was fourteen Kisame knew the boy had been blessed and that fact had remained true eight years later, where Itachi was now a man. But it was the way Itachi carried himself that left Kisame in awe. His partner had an elegance that not even a Daimyo possessed. He moved with grace and precision, always calm and collected in any situation, and on the rare occasion they had a conversation, his voice was velvety smooth with a weight that suggested he was knowledgeable beyond his years.

Kisame had a favorite analogy for his associate.

Itachi was akin to a poisonous flower. Tempting and beautiful, luring both prey and predator in until the mistake of touching something that should not be tainted is made. A small prick from his thorns is all that is needed to send those who dare even breath on him to an early grave.

Yes, a poisonous flower. That was how Kisame viewed his partner.

At one point he had envied his partner’s prowess but that had steadily transformed into respect during a time when those toxic thorns of Itachi's had come dangerously close to penetrating his skin. And now, as he adjusted his cloak over his shoulders, he wasn’t sure what that respect had morphed into.

“You’re going out,” Itachi stated, eyes never leaving the dismal world outside their room.

"I'm gonna see about wrangling up some dinner," Kisame explained, picking up the straw hat. It wouldn't do much to stop the rain but it at least made him appear more normal. Walking about without some form of protection from the weather drew too much attention. "Is there anything in particular that you'd like?"

He always asked, a small part of him hoping he'd get a response - some insight at the shinobi’s likes and dislikes.

But he always received a variation of the following response:

"I'm sure whatever you pick will be fine."

It was always fine. Itachi never complained about the food Kisame bought and after years of working alongside him, Kisame had learned that the man seemed to prefer the plainer dishes than something with eccentric flavors. It was a stretch to say that he knew much more than that. Tea and rice were Itachi’s go-to foods. And they were so easy to come by.

With a hum and a nod, Kisame left the double room they were to share and made his way out onto the muddy streets. Once he crossed the hotel’s threshold he resisted the compulsion to glance up and see if Itachi was watching from the window, knowing fully well that he’d meet onyx eyes. Or maybe even the eerie red of the Sharingan. He supposed with the rain the Sharingan would make seeing easier. But really, he just wanted to crack that unwavering facade of Itachi’s. 

A smile, a roll of the eyes, even just a damn raised eyebrow. 

Kisame pressed his arms closer to his sides much to his urge to grin and wave at the figure watching him from the window.

\---

The water was falling steadily forcing the usual crowds to seek shelter. Only a handful with umbrellas or the few souls who decided to say ‘fuck it’ and run occupied the main market strip. Kisame had spent more time than he usually cared to looking for a place to grab some takeout and had with him a few bags from a few places. All of it was in favor of his partner.

For some reason he was in a lighter mood and wanted to spoil Itachi. Mostly for his own amusement, but a lingering feeling told him that the Uchiha needed it.

He found Itachi still sitting in the chair he’d left him in but his posture had changed. He was now leaning away from the window, head resting on knuckles while he continued to stare out the glass. The rustle of bags being placed on the chabudai drew a glance and then he was silently joining Kisame on the floor for dinner.

Kisame took the initiative, first pouring the hojicha tea he’d picked up in the provided hotel cups. It was probably a sin to order tea on the go, (the servicer had given him an odd look at his request) but they didn’t have the equipment in the room or amongst their belongings to make their own batch. Itachi didn’t comment, allowing Kisame to do as he pleased and thanked him as he took the offered cup. He sipped quietly, eyes half-lidded as Kisame arranged the food. 

He’d tried his best to find a restaurant that served more Fire Country cuisine. Rice could be found anywhere but for a country that’s nearly an island, foods with seaweed was a little harder to locate. At least in one place. 

He acquired some sushi from one stand, onigiri from another, and was fortunate the ramen shop served miso. It was all very plain; the sushi more for his own palate but Itachi was welcome to it.

As per usual, they ate in silence but Kisame was very interested in Itachi’s reactions. From his observations and correct assumptions of the past, his partner preferred the rice balls and miso soup, eating with a finesse of someone born of nobility. In a way that was accurate - the Uchiha were the shinobi equivalent to a daimyo.

That first bite, however, Itachi had paused mid-chew, gaze softening just a fraction as he stared off, eyes distant. Then he seemed to snap out of his thoughts and swallowed, continuing on as if nothing had happened.

But something had; Kisame witnessed it.

Quiet washed over them, nothing but the thrum of rain and clinking of chopsticks and cups filling the air. That was just their level of comfortability between each other. They didn’t need idle conversation, not that any was ever had, nor a plan to discuss. It was just two men who’d known each other long enough to keep things peaceful.

That was until the strangest of things happened.

“How long has it been?” Itachi suddenly asked.

Kisame paused, his second to last norimaki piece halfway in his mouth when Itachi spoke. They were nearly done eating, Itachi eating more than usual. Kisame had mentally pat himself on the back for getting the meal right but now he was at a loss. He lowered the chopsticks without taking the bite and grinned sideways. “You’re going to have to elaborate on what you’re asking.”

“How long has it been,” dark eyes met him, “since you’ve last raised your sword at me?”

Shrugging, Kisame tried to brush off the seriousness in Itachi’s look. “Since the beginning, I suppose.” The eyes hadn’t turned that dangerous red. Not yet, anyways.

Itachi hummed and glanced down at the remains of dinner. “You went out of your way for dinner in favor of things I might prefer.”

Always the observer and incredibly sharp, Kisame often forgot how perceptive Itachi could be.

He shrugged. “We’ve been on the road for quite awhile and you looked like you could use a pick-me-up.” He resumed eating, hardly chewing before swallowing the norimaki whole. Itachi was watching him now, expression, like always, unreadable but calculating. Kisame chuckled. “Did I guess right?” This wasn’t even all of it. There was still the white paper bag with a few sticks of dango. He’d caught Itachi giving the sweets stand a sparring glance as they passed by earlier. His decadent partner had a sweet tooth he tried ever so unsuccessfully to hide.

“You’ve been observing me since we’ve entered this town,” he simply answered, sitting back, awaiting Kisame’s response.

There was something off - a tenseness that didn’t normally occur between the two of them. He knew through nearly eight years of partnership that he’d picked up some of Itachi’s tells and right now he was a viper ready to strike.

But what was causing Itachi to regard him with such caution? Was it really because of the food and how he’d apparently-not-as subtly-as-he-had-thought been observing Itachi? Of course he should have known Itachi would catch him. The man, like any shinobi, was constantly aware of his surroundings, but being studied should not have mattered. He always watched Itachi - this time wasn’t any different. And as for the food, well, he figured he’d try curing Itachi’s homesickness.

And then an epiphany struck him. 

“You think I’m testing your loyalty,” Kisame breathed out. The coal black eyes shifted into crimson, revealing the triple tomoe. It sent Kisame bursting with laughter.

He was right! He’d gotten to Itachi! Shaken him into thinking there was some higher purpose to their evening.

The red eyes narrowed at him and once he regained control of himself, he had to remember that Itachi could kill him right at this moment. Or subject him to torture. Laughing at someone as powerful as he was a mistake that oddly invigorated him but he needed to clear any suspicions. 

“Itachi,” he grinned, “for once I was actually doing something nice.” The eyes further narrowed and Kisame chuckled. “You looked homesick.” There was a fraction of a twitch. “The rain does that to me too.”

“Are you suggesting that I miss Konohagakure?” He sounded a little angry - Kisame had touched a nerve.

“Yeah, maybe.” Before Itachi could snarl a response, Kisame continued. “There’s nothing wrong with that. Home is home, even if it ceased being that way. I don’t miss the people in Kirigakure but I do miss the culture, and the cuisine, and hell, I even miss the crappy weather!” He grew more serious, reassuring Itachi that he wasn’t going to betray him. “I’m not gonna turn on ya just because you’re revealing your human side for once.”

After a moment, the red glow dimmed and the eyes returned to their dark onyx.

This was perhaps the first time, _he’d_ talked _Itachi_ down from killing.

And Kisame was left wondering if perhaps Itachi _was_ still loyal to Konoha. The bingo books, hunter-nin, and even just Itachi’s history said otherwise, but his partner was full of secrets and few words. 

And Kisame was no better.

With the recent shape of Akatsuki, his faith in the group was beginning to shake.

"So you miss Kiri?"

Itachi's question felt out of the blue only because the man never inquired about Kisame's feelings before. To strangers the question would be appropriate given their conversation thus far, but to him, it was like being hit with a powerful jutsu. Itachi asking something personal sent his stomach aflutter. 

Grinning, he gave a half shrug. For some reason he was in a sharing kind of mood. "More often than I should admit."

"Would you ever go back?" Itachi asked, taking a sip of tea.

"Now who's testing the other's loyalty?" he smirked but the amusement quickly subsided. Kisame sighed. "Who knows," he answered honestly. "The new Mizukage seems to be reforming it for the better. I left because of a lie orchestrated to kill my fellow shinobi. They may understand but… Hm." He shrugged. "I think I'd like to live somewhere secluded. On a beach, the ocean at my toes, salt in the air." He blushed as he realized he'd revealed too much and shook his head. "And you? Would you go back?" he asked, hoping to steer the conversation back towards Itachi. It seemed only fair that the Uchiha share some pipe dream of his own.

Itachi was silent as he thought on it, staring into the shallow remains of his tea. "No. I don't think I could."

"That's not what I'm asking," Kisame huffed. "If, theoretically, they welcomed you back, would you?"

Itachi's eyes grew distant, almost pained. The lithe fingers curled a little tighter over the clay cup. Then he blinked and shook his head once. "No. I couldn't - _wouldn't_ \- go back. It was never an intention of mine to return."

Kisame hummed in agreement. Killing one's comrades because it was an order was one thing. Kisame could be forgiven even if he didn't see it possible. But Itachi, his sometimes delicate looking flower, had massacred an entire people - his _own_ people. He was now one of two (three if they counted Madara) surviving members of a once powerful and feared clan. And Itachi had done it single handedly but for some odd reason spared his younger brother. For a 'test of his abilities' as he claimed. It smelled like bullshit to Kisame. He didn't doubt Itachi had the capabilities to, he just doubted it was for his reasoning. 

Because, for a shinobi, Itachi detested violence. Often, more than not, he frowned upon Kisame's brutality and made kills quick and painless to spare their targets of suffering. It took the fun out of it but nowadays he was beginning to lose his own stomach to excessive bloodshed. Itachi's passiveness seemed to be rubbing off on him.

He let his musings peter off and picked up the paper bag, removing the tri-colored sweets in the hopes for a distraction. A small spark of life returned to Itachi's eyes and he knew he'd assumed right. "Figured I'd treat us a little today."

"Botchan dango," Itachi murmured and the faintest of smiles softened his face. He accepted the offered skewer with the pink, white, and green flour balls and looked at it fondly. "It's been a long time since I've had some."

Already consuming the top piece, Kisame was eager to see Itachi try it. And it was almost sensual the way Itachi closed his eyes and pulled off the first ball. It sent a shiver of heat through Kisame as he watched the flower retract his toxic thorns and submit to the pleasure.

Itachi chewed slowly as if relishing the taste and swallowed, and when his gaze met Kisame's he smiled just a sliver more. "Thank you, Kisame. It's nice to enjoy the simpler things once in awhile."

"Heh," he chuckled. "We should do it more often."

Itachi nodded and moved onto the second dango ball. "We should."

And after a handful of heartbeats, Itachi smirked and chuckled low and quiet. It made Kisame freeze. Itachi _never_ laughed.

“Retirement on the beach,” Itachi mused, resting his chin on his palm. His eyes glinted with mischief as they met Kisame’s. “It makes you sound old.”

Kisame started, losing all thought processing power and thus his voice. He was too busy ingraining the first genuine smile his partner has ever shown. What he couldn’t believe was that it had taken eight years, a good mood, and a small naive admittance to incite this moment.

He blinked and shook his head and tried his best to sound indignant but he knew he was grinning wide. “Well, excuse me for liking the beach.”

“It sounds nice,” Itachi said smoothly, his gaze soft. “It suits you. I wouldn’t mind that either. Perhaps in another life.”

He hadn’t been extending an invitation, but, he supposed, if there was anyone who could enjoy the static sounds of rhythmic waves and gull calls and a complete lack of human interaction, it was Itachi. 

Kisame hummed in thoughtful understanding, picking up the cup to hide his lax grin. “Perhaps in another life,” he agreed. Hopefully the life after this one.

A blush was certainly heating his face at this moment as he stared half-lidded at Itachi across from him. He hoped his odd colored skin hid any signs.

Because the flower before him was blooming.

And it warmed him to know he was the cause.


End file.
